


Leaving

by TheWincestRiots



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8718586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWincestRiots/pseuds/TheWincestRiots





	

Sam can’t remember a time when he wasn’t completely enamored with his older brother.

Dean was his protector, his confidant, his hero; the one true constant in his life. He’s not sure when his admiration took on an edge of heat; when wanting to be like him turned to just wanting; when ‘i love you’ became ‘i’m in love with you’. Maybe it had always been that way. But he knows when he started to see that heat reflected back at him in Dean’s eyes.

They’d spent most of last summer camping, just the two of them while Dad was off on a hunt. Their site was so remote they’d go days without seeing another soul. Just days and days of splashing in the wide stream that flowed off the mountain, eyeing the shine of water on sun-kissed skin. More often than not Sam would look up from counting the new freckles on Dean’s chest to find him looking back, gaze laden with heat and intensity. Sometimes it seemed that they lost hours just looking, and every small touch that would once have been casual and meaningless was suddenly electric. Something was building between them in those warm summer weeks.

It seemed the spell was broken when Dad rolled in, calling for them to pack it up, it was time to move on. Another town, another school, another hunt. Business as usual.

For a while Sam thought maybe he had just imagined it. Maybe he had just been seeing what he wanted to see. Now that they were back in civilization Dean was back to his old tricks, constant flirting , late nights out. But sometimes…sometimes he’d catch Dean looking at him just a little too long, or standing just a little too close, only to pull away quickly, unable to meet Sam’s eyes, and he knew it wasn’t just in his head. It was thrilling and terrifying. He’d lived with the guilt of wanting his brother for so long that it was just a part of him now, he barely even felt it anymore. He knew that wasn’t the case for Dean, though. Dean had spent his whole life protecting him and Sam was sure he was beating himself up over this. As much as Sam wanted to act on his feelings now that he knew they were reciprocated he was certain it would spell disaster for them. Dean would never forgive himself.

~~~

“We can’t keep going like this, Dean. Or we’re going to…”

Dean’s got him crowded up against the wall, and he’s so angry, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

“Going to what?” He asks, voice dangerously calm.

All Sam can do is look at him, can’t say what’s running through his head. Can’t tell his brother that he knows if this thing keeps going they’re going to cross that thin tenuous line. They’re going to ruin each other.

The taut anger in Dean’s face uncoils as he slams his fist into the wall right next to Sam’s head.

“Going to what, Sam?” he yells , inches away from Sam’s face.

Sam doesn’t even flinch. Gently he presses his palm flat against Dean’s chest, pushing him away. Despite his violence a moment before, Dean goes easily, backing away from Sam. Sam watches the anger bleed out of his face as his expression shifts to something Sam’s sure he’s never seen on his brother. He looks… shattered, completely broken-open. Sam can’t look at him any more, doesn’t want to see it, knowing that he put that there.

“We just can’t” he says quietly, turning away from the hurt that he’s causing.

“Sam.” Dean whispers pleadingly.

He doesn’t turn around, can’t let Dean see that he’s just as shattered. He tries to keep his voice even.

“I have to do this.”

~~~

It’s so loud, the two of them shouting at each other, every word like a punch while Dean stands helplessly watching. Dad and Sam have gotten into it before, but never like this. Dean wants to jump in between them, to yell just as loud for them to stop, but he just stands there silently praying for John to make Sam stay somehow. But he won’t.

Dean stands paralyzed as he watches Sam go out the door, oblivious to the wetness streaking his face. This can’t be happening. All he can think is ‘Sam can’t leave. He can’t leave.’ But he is. He’s leaving. And Dean can’t just let him go. Before he really thinks it through he’s out the door, running down the wet street in the dark after his brother. It doesn’t take long to catch up to him, but when he does he realizes he isn’t sure what to say. Sam doesn’t stop when Dean reaches him, just keeps walking. Dean silently plods along next to him, trying to get his brain to catch up with his feet. They fall into a quiet rhythm, walking side by side, just as they’ve always done. It’s almost peaceful with the night sounds all around them, the soft dripping of the day’s earlier rain falling from the leaves on the trees. It reminds Dean of the nights spent sitting on the ground near their tent the summer before. Of the inexorable pull he’d felt, as if his brother was a magnet and Dean was made of iron filings. He’d tried so hard to go back to normal after their dad had picked them up, but he couldn’t really deny what he was feeling anymore. He knew that was at least part of why Sam was leaving, but he wasn’t sure if it was because Sam felt it, too; that pull, that want, or because he didn’t. By the time they rounded the corner to the bus station, Dean had made up his mind. If Sam wanted it, wanted him, he could have him, have everything, and God, Dean wanted to give it to him. If he just wanted things back the way they were, Dean could suck it up and pretend. Hell, he’d been doing just that for months now.

The bus is already there, waiting, the driver chatting idly with some passengers as he loads their bags. Dean guesses they still have a bit of time before it’s scheduled to pull out, nobody seems in any particular hurry. He lays a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him around to face him. He wants to just wrap his arms around him and hold him there until the bus leaves, keep him just a little bit longer. He doesn’t though, just gently runs his hands over Sam’s upper arms.

“Sammy, please.” His voice cracks and he has to start again. "Sam, I’ll do anything; be anything you want you want me to be, just…just don’t go.“

And clearly that was the wrong thing to say, because Sam pulls back and turns away from him.

"Dean…you can’t” he swallows thickly, clearing his throat.“You can’t do that. You can’t live your life for me. I-I can’t live mine for you. I’m sorry, Dean.”

He picks up his duffel and steps onto the bus, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face. It’s the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life, but he knows it’s the right thing. For both of them.

~~~

Dean completely falls apart after Sam leaves. For a while John feels like he has lost both his sons. A part of him understood Sam’s desire to go to college, to leave hunting behind, and he was beyond proud of him for getting a full ride to a prestigious school like Stanford, but he didn’t like it. He just wasn’t safe there, dammit! Not like he’d be with them, with Dean. Dean was always so watchful, so vigilant where Sam was concerned. Even more so over the past year. Something had happened between the two of them when he’d left them camping over the summer. Something had shifted, he’d sensed it right away when he’d gone to pick them up. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to look too closely, didn’t want to know.

After Sam left they went on a series of easy hunts. Nothing complicated, nothing where either of them could get seriously hurt. Just trying to keep Dean busy more than anything else, but it was clear that it wasn’t working. His son was half-drunk most of the time, and stumble-down drunk anytime they weren’t hunting, and not even making an effort to hide it from his old man.

John wanted to talk to him about it, even tried a few times, but Dean completely closed off any time Sam’s name was mentioned. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Without telling him where they were heading, he drove them to California.

The closer they got to Palo Alto the more restless Dean became, shifting in his seat, looking from the road signs to his dad, but he didn’t say anything. When they reached the Stanford campus John parked the Impala. The silence stretched between them for long moments before John spoke.

“I know this is where your head’s been. If this is where you want to be you can grab your bag and get out of the car now and go to him. I won’t try to stop you.”

Dean doesn’t say anything. Just stares out at the students passing by, thankful that Sam isn’t among them. He wants to see him, god he fucking longs for it, but he’s not sure what would happen if he did. He’s not sure he could stay in the car if he saw him. He knows he couldn’t stop himself from going to him. And what then?

_He doesn’t want me._

Dean doesn’t need to look over to know that his dad is staring at him intently.

“Is this where you want to be, son?” He asks quietly.

Dean’s gaze falls to his hands on his thighs, hadn’t realized he’d clenched them into tight fists.

_Sam doesn’t want me._

“No, sir.”

John keeps his eyes fixed on him for a long moment, as if searching for the lie in his words, or waiting for him to change his mind. Finally he nods.

“Okay.” It’s spoken firmly, but not unkindly.

Dean doesn’t look back as John puts the car in gear and drives away.


End file.
